


The Devil's Pawn

by daxxripley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Explicit Language, F/M, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxxripley/pseuds/daxxripley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want her to drown in regret; for every action against us she has made: the berries, the flowers on the little girl, that damn mockingjay pin. Every defiance against us will come at a price; this boy, Peeta Mellark," Snow says viciously. My heart thumps faster, beyond my control now. (...) "We break that which she loves most; we will shatter Peeta Mellark."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my wonderful beta, tebby_sweet, for staying up all night to work on my stories.   
> This is post-CF but not strictly canon.

“Peeta, Finnick, you stay here with me. Katniss and Johanna will run the coil to the water,” Beetee tells us as he fiddles anxiously with his spool of wound coil.

“No,” I reply instantly, sternly. My voice sounds distant, and suddenly everything feels murky, like I'm under water. I know instinctively this is a terrible idea.

“You offered me protection; this is my request,” he says to me adamantly. They are all staring at me, and I know time is short.

“Katniss and I can protect you or I can go with her, but I won't be separated from her,” my voice is dangerously low now, serious. She is my only concern.

My hands begin to tremble slightly, and my gaze drifts from Beetee to Katniss. Her mouth is open ever so slightly, her eyebrows furrowed. I can tell by the slight narrowing of her eyes, the way her knuckles now grip her bow tightly- she is no more comfortable with this than I. These games will be over by morning, we both know. It is of utmost importance that I keep Katniss safe, always within my line of sight, close enough to reach out to touch her. There can be no other option.

“Peeta,” she says softly, and my heartbeat is loud to my ears, my head swimming at the sound of her tender voice. I instinctively take a step towards her, the urge to be next to her suddenly overwhelming.

“Let Katniss and I discuss this first,” I say, my gaze never wavering from hers. I'm afraid to take my eyes off of her for too long, fearful that once I do, I will lose her forever. 

“We don't have time for that!” Beetee shouts, growing irritated at our hesitance. “The lightning tree will soon be struck, and if we don't act now we'll miss our window!” he says, arms waving wildly, though he never loosens his grip on the precious coil.

I know he's right, but I just can't accept his terms. I refuse to risk Katniss's life after I've worked so hard to protect her. I can see the medallion dangling around her neck, the one I had made for her that contains photos of her family and Gale; I'm once again reminded of yet another reason she must return home. 'No, I think desperately to myself. 'They will not separate us like this.' I'm suddenly suspicious of the push to separate Katniss and I, but before I can voice those concerns, Katniss' voice cuts through the space between us.

“Johanna and I will go, and we'll be back after the lightning strikes,” she says firmly, pulling her bow from across her shoulders. “He's right, Peeta; if someone doesn't leave now we lose our chance,” she tells me. Her words fall like a heavy boulder upon my shoulders. She closes the distance between us, but I'm unable to move. 

“Hey,” she whispers, her fingers trailing fire down the length of my arm, igniting my entire body simply by entwining our fingers.

“Peeta,” she murmurs softly, dark eyes scanning my face as if she's trying to memorize every detail. I close my eyes and drink in the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand in mine. These could be our final moments together, and I want to treasure them with the time I have left.

I open my eyes when I feel her forehead fall against my chest, and let my free hand rise to stroke her hair. I rest my cheek on the top of her head, trying to remind myself that in this blazing moment she's real, she's here, and she is mine. The real world seems so far away, and the time when I was nothing more to her than the bakers boy down the street feels like a distant dream.

“Come back to me,” I whisper, my voice muffled in her soft hair.

“I will,” she promises, lifting her head to meet my eyes, the serious look in her eyes that I'm so accustomed to, that I love so much.

Though my body feels cold, numb to the bone, I somehow manage a small nod. I let my fingers slide lightly along the curve of her cheekbone and down to her chin, memorizing the outline of her face. These precious features, her lips, her eyes, I never wish to forget. I tuck my fingers gently under her chin and lift her face to meet mine. Her lips are full and soft, and hold the now familiar taste of mint as they seem to always have. Now that I have her, can truly call her mine, I never want to let her go; but mere seconds after the last kiss begins, it's over.

“Are we ready to leave now? I want to put as much distance as possible between us and that water,” Johanna snaps impatiently, hands on her hips as she taps one foot in clear annoyance. Silence hangs in the air; no one replies to her. I can't speak. I can't move. This feels entirely wrong. A nagging voice at the back of my mind is telling me to stay with Katniss, commanding me not to let her leave.

But I stand unmoving as she walks away, my eyes glued to the small of her back as she grows farther away from me. Every few steps she pauses long enough to glance over her shoulder at me as if she's expecting me to disappear at any moment, but it's not me who vanishes; it's her. Soundlessly, the girl on fire slips between the trees behind Johanna, and just like that, she is gone.

***

“They'll be fine, Peeta,” Finnick tells me in what is clearly intended to be a placating tone. I know he is trying to comfort me but his eyes deceive him, and he paces nervously like I do. We walk in opposite circles around the tree, eyes open for the careers but our thoughts far away with Katniss and Johanna.

A quite, almost noiseless ting catches my attention, and my head snaps up in alarm. I spin around, searching for the source, and notice the wire is no longer taught, but limp on the ground. My eyes meet Finnick's own horror filled gaze, and then we hear the shouting in the distance. All coherent thoughts abandon me and suddenly I'm sprinting through the trees, shouting Katniss's name. Panic is searing through my veins like adrenaline, and I can faintly hear Finnick crashing through the trees behind me.

“Katniss!” I scream, my throat raw as my frenzy grows.

I can't find her. This is it, I know; I've lost her. Dread begins to flood my senses and suddenly I can no longer tell from which direction the shouting is coming. I spin on my heel, trying to decide which path to take, but anxiety and terror are clouding my judgment. Before I can delve deeper into the forest in search of Katniss, I hear someone in the distance release a tortured cry. I know without a doubt that it is her.

I open my mouth to scream her name again, but only silence answers me. The night sky begins flashing, strikes of lightning illuminating the ominous clouds as they gather, ready themselves to unleash their ferocity. For a fleeting moment I wonder if Katniss ran back to the tree to find me, but I push this thought to the back of my mind. I assure myself that if she did, we would have found each other in the forest. I lurch forward again, unsteadily, in search of Katniss. It seems my body aches for her even when my mind is too muddled to think clearly. I begin running blindly through the woods again, desperate to find her and struggling to ignore the possibility that we have missed one another.

A flash illuminates our entire section of the arena for a brief, haunting moment. Then a crack so powerful it moves throughout my entire body rends the air. I spin around just in time to see white hot electricity launch from the sky above and light up it's target. Seconds later another bolt of lightning shoots towards the sky and pierces the forcefield over our heads. The sky blazes white, blinding me; as the glare fades, sparks of fire and debris begin raining down from above.

Everything happens so quickly that my mind has no time to process the phenomenon. On reflex I duck beneath a tree and bury my head beneath my arms, but I am not safe from the barrage. My last thought, and the last word I say before my world goes black, is her name.

***

The air conditioning is the first thing I notice when I regain consciousness; it is much cooler here than in the arena. Next I feel the restraints pinning my body to the gurney. Goosebumps cover my exposed flesh and I realize I must be in a capitol hovercraft. Whatever happened in the arena must have caused President Snow to evacuate us. My thoughts flash to Katniss; does he have her as well?

Despair begins to fester inside me when I realize I never found her; I don't even know that she's alive. I ball my hands into fists and fight back the rage that threatens to overcome me. I should never have let her out of my sight. I was going to protect her; she was supposed to live. My heart beats faster as my emotions rage and a monitor next to me records this with a high pitched beeping. Footsteps and muffled voices force me to control myself, and I remain unmoving on the hard gurney, eyes closed.

“Did we cut away quickly enough?” a furious voice demands from somewhere near me.

'That's Snow. Of course his main concern is the viewers and their games.' I think bitterly to myself.

“Hardly,” this voice is tense, laced with worry. I have no clue who this man is, but just his association with the president makes me loathe him. I command myself to breathe deeply, evenly. Being in such close proximity to the man that introduced me to the horrors that fuel my nightmares sends me into a blind fury. I want nothing more than his life in repentance for everything he has cost me. But I will remain still, let him believe me unconscious.

“I want her,” President Snow snarls angrily. “Dead or alive, I don't care. But you bring me that bitch, do you understand? Burn this entire country to the ground if you must, but you bring me Katniss Everdeen,” he finishes coldly, deadly fury in his voice.

This time I'm unable to control the rage that floods my body. I'm relieved that Katniss is alive; she made it out, and is not a captive. But this comforting thought is short lived and then all I know is burning madness. Strapped to a gurney at the mercy of this cold-hearted man, I will still give my life for Katniss.

I will never allow him to touch her.

The monitor registers the change in my blood pressure and heartbeat, reminding them of my presence. 

“And what of the boy, sir?” other voice inquires quietly.

President Snow's footsteps click sharply on the tiled floor as he paces around the room. A few tense, silent moments pass before he finally comes to a stop beside my gurney. I can practically feel his gaze burning through me but I do my best to remain still.

'Calm, even breathing. His time will come,' I tell myself darkly, firmly. Next to me, Snow chuckles softly.

“The star-crossed lovers of District 12 will not have a happy ending, I'm afraid,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice; he is amused now, and my rage increases exponentially.

“A public execution, then? Broadcast all over Panem; she'll see it, without a doubt,” the other voice suggests.

“No, that won't do. If we eliminate him, we have no leverage over her,” Snow replies, his voice thoughtful now. Anxiety begins to build within me; what is he planning? And how is going to use it to get to Katniss?

“What do you mean, sir?” the other man inquires curiously. President Snow sighs in annoyance.

“As long as Peeta Mellark lives, we control Miss Everdeen. She will sacrifice herself to save him,” he replies brusquely.

“We want her to die trying to save him, then?” the man asks in confusion, unable to follow Snow's line of thinking. I think I know where this is going though, and my palms begin to sweat against the crisp sheets.

“Eventually, perhaps. But first, I want her to drown in regret; for every action against us she has made: the berries, the flowers on the little girl, that damn mockingjay pin. Every defiance against us will come at a price; this boy, Peeta Mellark,” Snow says viciously. My heart thumps faster, beyond my control now.

“I'm not quite follo-” he begins again, but Snow cuts him off.

“I want Katniss Everdeen dead. But first, I want to destroy her,” the monster replies, malicious pleasure in his voice.

“But how do we do that?” this man is still unable to keep up, but I have long since arrived at the conclusion to this tale.

“We break that which she loves most; we will shatter Peeta Mellark.”


	2. Devil's Backbone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the characters and/or plot belong to me.   
> I have to give a massive thank you to my Beta, Tebby_Sweet, who makes my work a million times better!

Inside my cell the air is damp, clammy. Briefly I wonder if I've been placed somewhere far underground. The tiny cell has no windows; no sunlight or moonlight to hint at the time of day. The room is bare of everything except myself. No bed or cot to soften the concrete floor beneath me, and no blanket to dull the chill in the air. The unrelenting floor dips down at the center, where there is a small, circular drain. I do not allow myself to consider the need for such a thing.

Though I am the victim, here I am nothing more than a prisoner. The manacles restraining my wrists and ankles scrape along the ground as I pull myself upright. My joints pop and ache, already sore from the harshness of this cell. Blood rushes to my head, making my temples pulse and blurring my vision; masking my hearing with the rhythm of my heartbeat. I let my fingers gingerly probe the back of my head for an injury I only faintly remember receiving my last night in the arena. When I find the knot, caked thick with blood, I wince and lower my hand.

My bare feet make no sound when I cross the room and stand before the barred cell door. I try to look around, assess my surroundings, but the light is too dim. I wrap my hands tightly around the cold steel.

"Hello?" I call out hoarsely.

"Peeta?" an incredulous voice responds. A familiar voice.

"Johanna?" I ask, my voice thick with disbelief. The bars scrape my hands as they tighten reflexively. I hope against hope that I am wrong.

Out of everyone in the arena, Johanna was the last person I would suspect of getting captured. With her fiery tempter and fierce demeanor, I would have thought she would fight to the death before allowing herself to be taken into capitol custody. But much to my surprise, here she is, just a cell over.

"Yeah, it's me. Don't worry, I'm as surprised as you are," she replies dully. I don't know how to respond, but she does so for me.

"I wonder who else they caught?" she asks quietly, and I force myself to answer her this time.

"They didn't get Katniss, but I don't know if anyone else is alive," I am quiet, solemn. I don't want to imagine who might be dead.

"Finnick..." she begins, only to find herself unable to finish. I'm slow to respond, giving her time to compose herself. I know this is a sore subject; Finnick is a close friend of hers.

"The last time I saw him, he was alive. If Snow had him, I'm sure he'd be down here with us. Maybe he got out with Katniss," I offer, knowing that the hope is fragile.

Faintly, I hear her sight. With no other voices ringing out from the cells around us, I have to assume we alone were unlucky enough to be captured. Still, though the situation is dire, I'm eternally grateful that Katniss escaped this.

"What happened out there?" My voice is so quiet I'm not sure she can hear. "I heard Katniss scream. . ." I trail off, unable to finish.

She doesn't respond for a few moments; just when I'm sure she didn't hear me, I receive the answer I afraid of.

"We were attacked. Brutus and Ennobaria. . . Peeta, there's a lot you don't know. There was a plan from the beginning, we weren't allowed to say anything. If Katniss and Finnick aren't here, I know where they are," she tells me, and her words raise more questions within me; what were we not told?

"Where-" I begin to demand of her, but stop abruptly as a flood of light pours into the hall, and brusque footsteps can be heard rapidly approaching. Instinctively I step away from the bars, retreating to the dark depths of my cell as quietly as possible. I resume my previous position on the floor and lean back against the stone wall just as the footsteps halt in front of my cell. I hear the rustle of keys, the scraping, grating sound of a key turning in the lock, and then five people enter in single file. The last man to enter walks towards me, face blank and empty as the cell around us.

"Peeta," President Snow greets me, his voice also void of emotion. "I hope these accommodations are to your liking," he says, though I am quite certain he couldn't care less.

"Not quite. But given the circumstances, I suppose I can't complain," I respond coolly, attempting to maintain the same unaffected front that he does.

"No, you can not. However, I foresee your opinion changing. There are some matters at hand to discuss," he counters, signaling his guards with a single wave of his hand. Two of his them grab my arms roughly, wrenching me to my feet. They use their body weight to throw me back against the wall, and my head connects painfully, stars exploding before my eyes. I grit my teeth and resist struggling; I know this will only increase the severity of what is to come.

"How long have you known of the rebels plans?" Snow demands, wasting no time.

"What?" I manage, dumbfounded at the question and still blinking back the pain in my head.

"Do not play ignorant, it will only make this worse for yourself," he snaps, anger now sharp in his tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I elaborate now, quietly, honestly.

"Peeta," he begins venomously. "War is raging beyond this compound, and if you wish to save the lives of anyone you hold dear, I strongly suggest you start talking," he finishes, fury now radiating from his very frame.

"I told you, I don't know wha-" I don't see the fist fly towards my stomach, only feel the explosion of pain when my sentence is cut off abruptly and the breath is snatched form my lungs. I am allowed to hunch over for only a moment as fire sears through my abdomen. My back is shoved back up against the wall and I'm once again pinned in place, struggling to regain my breath.

"Katniss Everdeen began unraveling the delicate threads of our society in last year's Games; however, I do not believe she knew of the rebels at that point. Her actions were too unpredictable, obviously unplanned in the larger scheme of things. But this year she appears to have been better informed. After she exploded my arena, for example, rebel hovercrafts conveniently swarmed in to rescue her. Yet you expect me to believe that you, her lover, knew nothing of this?" his voice is low but dangerous; deadly.

I'm unable to follow for a moment. Katniss brought the arena down? But how, and why? My eyebrows furrow as I consider his accusations, but coming to the conclusion that he's lying, trying to mentally manipulate me. Even if Katniss was the one who destroyed the arena, which I don't really believe, she didn't know what her actions would mean. That's just Katniss; acting in the moment with no regard to her safety, going on instinct.

"That is exactly what I expect you to believe. I don't know anything about any rebels, and Katniss didn't, either," I tell him, firm in my belief. He shakes his head in exasperation.

"This won't do, Peeta. Even our esteemed Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, has sided with the rebels it would seem. Your mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, is also conveniently unaccounted for as well, along with the career, Finnick Odair. But here you stand before me; lying to my face and claiming to have no knowledge of District 13, when all of your friends did? Why, Peeta, would they keep such valuable information from you alone?" he says, and I know now that he is bating me, trying to anger me into revealing my secrets. Except I have no secrets; only the absolute certainty that I will not be able to convince President Snow of this.

My ragged breathing is the only sound in the room now; I grit my teeth and keep my eyes locked with his. Looking away now will only further confirm to him that I am a liar. My only option is to talk myself out of this, and it occurs to me as if from another life that this is always my way.

"President Snow," I begin, choosing my words very carefully. "If I had knowledge of... District 13, wasn't it? Do you think I would have, even for a second, allowed myself to be separated from her? Do you honestly think I would have given you the chance to remove me from her side? Let me assure you that if Katniss and I were given any indication about a plan to start a rebellion, we would've been much more careful during these games," I finish bitterly.

He nods his head, and again a fist slams into my side. I lurch to the left as the blow digs into my ribcage, and I feel at least two cave in at the force. I sway, blinking hard, trying to ignore the pain; I glare up at snow as I am bent over, heaving. His arms are crossed and he is shaking his head disapprovingly; he still doesn't believe me. Slowly, he begins pacing the cell.

"Peeta," President Snow says quietly, his fingers beginning to aimlessly stroke his beard. "You have not yet seen the footage from the arena; do not yet know what sparked the destruction that night. I believe after I show you, that you will no longer be so convinced of her ignorance," he finishes, coming to a stop before me once again.

He pulls from his pocket a device slightly larger than my hand and touches the screen; the hand held technology powers on. A few seconds later I hear my voice echo from the speakers. He steps closer and extends his hand, showing me the display.

I watch our final moments in the arena with a hollow feeling inside. The camera follows Katniss and Johanna as they carry the wire to the saltwater, and I hear the familiar ting as someone cuts the wire, watch as a confused Johanna and Katniss look around. Then, everything goes awry. I see Brutus and Ennobaria following the wire to Katniss and Johanna, then Johanna smashes the side of Katniss's head. She straddles her, slices her arm open, and Katniss releases the cry of pain I remember hearing. Then, curiously, Johanna rolls off her, begins running away, leading Brutus and Ennobaria.

I continue to watch silently, holding my breath and balling my hands into fists as Katniss struggles to her feet and stumbles blindly through the arena until she makes it back to the tree. I begin mentally berating myself because I knew, I knew she went back to find me, but I was too emotionally charged to turn around.

Sweat begins to pool on my forehead, dread pumping anxiously through me as I watch Katniss tie the coil to one of her arrows and fire towards the sky. The line of electricity looks familiar to me, as I saw it when I was in the arena; I finally know what it was: Katniss.

"You can see her struggling," I whisper, my confidence beginning to waver slightly. "She didn't know what she was doing," I say, but my voice breaks slightly.

I look up at President Snow; he's gazing at me with fake sadness. I look away force myself to focus on the girl I know. I begin to regain more confidence in Katniss as I think longer on the situation.

"No," I say, confidence returning. "She was confused, you can see it plainly. She was just hit in the head; you saw it happen. You can't hold her accountable, assign her motives she didn't have," I tell him; my voice is even now. My belief in Katniss always has been, and always will be unbreakable.

The video stops seconds after the arena begins to fall apart, and President Snow tucks away his gadget. He clasps his hands behind his back once more and studies me with unwavering, dark eyes.

"I will hold her accountable not only for this, but for every rebellious action against me she has committed," he says chillingly.

"No, you won't," I retort just as viciously. "It's your fault, all of this; if there were no games, none of this would have happened. We could have grown up in peace, and Katniss would've been just another girl from District 12. You forced her hand by forcing her to fight for her life; backed her into a corner like a scared animal and now you're upset to discover she bites back," I am practically yelling now, my anger rising with each passing second.

The third blow catches my chin and sends my head spinning and my eyes crossing. Blood pools in my mouth from my cut bottom lip and I spit it out onto the floor. That's what the drain is for, I think in disorientation. I take a deep breath, glaring at President Snow; slowly losing my cool though I try desperately to maintain it.

He is quiet for a few moments, regarding me with his head tilted slightly to the side. I take this time to focus my blurred vision and steady myself once more.

"Do you know of Annie Cresta?" he asks suddenly.

"What?" I respond, confused at the sharp turn in the conversation.

"Annie Cresta, a victor from District 4. Do you know of her?" He says almost politely, and his cold blue eyes meet mine curiously. The bare hint of malice in his tone shakes me.

"Yes. . . Finnick's Annie?" I respond quietly, unsure of where he's leading me.

"Ah, yes. That one; sweet girl, you know. A little mad, but sweet," he smiles at the thought of her and cocks his head to the side as he meets my gaze. "She's been through so much. So very much. It would be a horrible shame if anything tragic were to happen to her, after all her suffering- don't you agree? Or your dear friend in the next cell; a horrible, terrible shame," he says in a sinister voice. Now, I understand; and I know that with this, he has me.

He's threatening me with the lives of those close to me. He wants something, but I'm still unsure of what that something is. I have nothing; I know nothing. What he could possibly need with me is beyond my imagination. Out of curiosity or stupidity, I'm not sure, but I take a calming breath and look up in defeat.

"What do you want?" I ask quietly.

"Tomorrow, you will give Caesar Flickerman an interview, and in this interview it is your duty to thwart the attempts of the rebels and bring this war to a screeching halt. For all of the lives in Panem, from here to District 13, I am leaving it on your shoulders to call them off. Or, the price of this war will be the lives of every person in between. Innocents... children and women, will perish due to a single girl if you don't stop her," President Snow promises me.

"Now you have an issue with murdering innocent children?" I spit at him without thinking. I barely have a moment to brace myself for the next blow, the next bit of punishment I would receive. My sarcastic tongue is rewarded with the smashing of my head against the concrete wall behind me. I am unable to control my groan of pain this time as searing pain rips through my head. I sway, feeling the room tip to one side, and my vision blacks at the corners.

"Like a dog is to be trained, so will you be, Peeta Mellark. You will learn the hard way not to mock me but instead to do as I say. Tomorrow, during your interview, you will convince the citizens of Panem that this was merely a fluke. You see, to them she is a hero; the salvation they have been yearning for. She is hope. But you and I both know, she's just a scared little girl. You said it yourself- she doesn't know what she's doing. Now, for the sake of your friends' lives and the lives of everyone in this country, you must convince them she is just that- a girl. Not a hero, not a martyr. Just a girl trying to save her own hide," he tells me.

"And if I can't?" I ask weakly, blood dripping from my mouth. I no longer make any attempt to stop it.

"Then the destruction of this country can lie on your shoulders along with hers. And when a full fledged war begins, I will have every capitol soldier on the hunt for her. When she is captured, and she will be, I will personally make sure she regrets even taking her first breath," he replies, his voice heavy with fury.

I begin to weigh the cost of my actions; on one hand, I can attempt to call off the rebels, but this will give President Snow easy access to Katniss... and the Hunger Games will forever continue. But letting the rebels wage war on our country would be disastrous; an untold number of lives lost, and that is assuming there is anyone left standing when the smoke clears. I'm faced with a terrible dilemma; save Panem or save Katniss?

"If I can call off this war, give her pardon; spare her," I request, trying hard to keep the desperation from my tone.

"Excuse me?" He asks, glancing up with a somewhat startled expression.

"If I can convince everyone in Panem that she's no hero, and give a reason to the rebels not to fight, you have to guarantee her life and safety afterward," I demand, but my voice quivers slightly. This is perhaps not my safest course of action.

"You are no position to bargain with me, Peeta," he snarls ferociously. "Your only option is to do as I say. You get the rebels to retreat or precious Annie and Johanna will bear the punishment, and that will only be the beginning. Should I prove this to you now?" His eyes flicker to one of the men in the room with us. "Johanna Mason, one cell over. Kill her, now," he says emotionlessly.

"What-?" I ask, startled, as one of the men begin to exit my cell. "NO!" I scream, my voice hoarse.

President Snow remains silent, looking bored as he wanders around my tiny cell. I struggle against the restraining arms holding me in place as I hear the man open Johanna's cell. I hear her curse, the scuffle of bodies as they struggle, and then she screams. There's a loud smack, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and another shriek of agony.

"Stop!" I shout pleadingly. "Look, I'll give this interview! I'll say whatever you want, just stop!" I am begging now, unable to bear Johanna's pain.

After a few more muffled groans, Snow calls off his dog. The man returns with crimson smeared on his shoes and speckled on his knuckles and wrists. He wipes his hands on his pants and grins at me sadistically. Disgusted, I force myself to look away and back at President Snow.

"That's more like it. It's much easier this way, I promise," he says, beaming at me. "Say what you will tomorrow, Peeta; you have a way with words. But rest assured this is all on you," he says, turning on one polished heel and walking towards the exit.

"I'll tell them that she didn't know what she was doing. She was confused, that's all; it is the truth. I'll convince them," I reply shakily, mind racing as I consider how I will tell Panem this. President Snow halts just before the sliding bars and glances over his shoulder at me.

"No," he says with a malicious smile. "Convince me."


End file.
